What You Are
by TalysAlankil
Summary: Ventus has been plagued with nightmares since the Keyblade War, but when he follows these dreams, he find they are much more than that. For Vanven week with the prompts "Restless" and "Monochrome".


The nightmare always unfolded the same way. With the dry taste of dusty desert air in his mouth, the glaring sun bright enough to make him want to keep his eyes closed forever, and a scuttling sound, alerting him of the creatures' presence. He struck one down when it leapt at him, and—

And woke up, inevitably, in excruciating pain. Not from any physical wound on his body, but from an overwhelming ache, deep within his heart—deeper than he thought possible. An ache, and an urge, too.

It had started right after the Keyblade War, and Ventus wasn't sure what the nightmare meant. It felt too clear to be a mere image conjured by his imagination from some anxiety Ven didn't know about; it felt like something _more_. Almost like a memory. And the urge he felt upon waking up made it feel like a calling. A message that only he could receive.

At first, he thought it was trauma from the war itself: the feelings that came during the dream certainly reminded him of the canyons of the Keyblade Graveyard. He knew now that Xehanort had taken him there, back when Ventus had been his apprentice. Ven still didn't remember much about that time, but the dream didn't match his memories much. If anything, he'd always had trouble fighting the Heartless that Xehanort summoned for practice.

Was that the dreams' meaning? Some leftover regret over his past weakness? It didn't add up at first—Ventus had more than done enough to demonstrate his strength since. Yet maybe there was something to it. After all, had Ventus not failed to meet Xehanort's expectations, he would never have dragged Terra into his plans, and Aqua with him. He would never have felt the need to cleave Ventus's heart in two in an attempt to give him another purpose.

As Ventus mused the dreams for the hundredth time or so, that last thought clung to his mind. There was someone who'd spent more time in the Keyblade Graveyard—someone who may have fought creatures there when Ventus hadn't been able to. Someone whose heart would always be connected with Ventus's, and therefore, their memories would always be linked together as well, whether Ven liked it or not.

The yearning got the best of him, nagging at his thoughts, eroding his reluctance until all he could think about was _go back, something must be happening_. Until he finally summoned his Keyblade Glider and flew back to the Keyblade Graveyard.

He had avoided this place since the war—they all had. There was no joy to be found here, no fond memories. Even Ven's reunion with Terra was tinged with sadness and trauma; far better to focus on when they had finally returned home together instead. Still, there _was_ a place in this world that was mostly untouched by memories of the war, the old badlands where Ventus had been training under Master Xehanort. Where _he_ had been born and lived most of his sad, dark existence.

Ventus wasn't sure what he expected to find, but an orb of darkness with the Unversed's symbol stamped on it wasn't it. Yet the moment he saw it, he knew it felt oddly familiar—like something he would have seen in a dream. Not the dream that kept him awake at night now; it was more of a dream of what could have been, had his own heart not fallen asleep after he and his friends had first foiled Xehanort's plans.

When he approached the orb, it hatched, like a dark egg, revealing a familiar shape inside. It was Vanitas, yet it also wasn't; all color had been drained from him and his Keyblade, leaving him in only black and white, and there was an inhuman aspect to the steps he took towards Ventus as he raised his weapon.

"Vanitas!" Ventus blocked the strike at the last minute and leapt back, realizing his mistake. This wasn't Vanitas—but it was a part of him. A remnant of all the pain he had felt in this place for the years Ventus had spent healing at the Land of Departure, safe under Eraqus's tutelage and bathed in the warmth of Terra and Aqua's friendship. A unique kind of Unversed.

The Unversed surged forward, and Ventus switched gear, readying himself for combat. His opponent was terrifyingly strong, moving with blinding speed, summoning dark energies the likes of which Ven had only seen during the Keyblade War, and every hit of his black-and-white Keyblade felt like it could knock Ventus out by itself.

Panic rushed through Ven's veins, as his mind flashed back to the war and his mouth filled with warm desert dust, but he managed to keep his breathing under control. The war had been hard, and this creature was strong, but Ventus had grown stronger still. Even with his fast fighting style, he couldn't outmaneuver the Unversed, but he _could_ keep up with it, both of them dashing and sliding in circles around one another. But the Unversed was pure aggression; Ven could still outsmart it. While dodging its attacks, he could still cast spells where he anticipated the creature to be, leave traps when he could, throw his Keyblade in an arcing pattern to strike its back.

The thrill of the fight coursed through his veins, and he felt confident he could triumph over the Unversed. Yet, just as he was about to deal the finishing blow, it retreated, surrounding itself with a dark sphere, and sending a shadowy version of itself to fight Ven in its stead. Then another, then three more. Within a few moments, Ven's view of the sky was darkened with dark afterimages of Vanitas.

He fought as hard as he could, but they overwhelmed him, knocking his Keyblade out of his hands, hitting him until he could do nothing but fall down, landing hard with his butt on the ground. Ven managed to summon his Keyblade back to him to block a deadly blow, but he still felt the strike vibrated against his arm.

"Vanitas—" he said again, closing his eyes and bracing himself for the end. Was that all? Had this dream been a lure, a way to trap him here for Vanitas to enact his final vengeance? Ven refused to think so. Not after how they had parted in the war. There had to be more to it than that.

Light on his eyelids, and sudden silence, forced him to open his eyes again. The shadowy clones were gone, and across the badlands, the sphere of darkness receded. The figure curled up inside floated in the air for a second, then dropped, landing on the ground with a hard _thud_.

Even from a distance, Ven could see it was no longer black and white, but that red had filled it in too.

"Vanitas?" Ven scrambled to his feet, and ran over to him. Vanitas's body lay on his side on the ground, and his helmet had cracked upon hitting the ground, with several shards of it coming loose. Through the holes they left in the helmet, Ven could see skin, and a closed eye. "Vanitas—you're back," he said, though it felt unbelievable.

Vanitas was breathing, but only faintly. Ven felt at the end of his own strength, but he still knelt by him, summoning healing magic. A gasp came in response, and Vanitas's eye flew open, golden and scared. His hand shot out in front of him, trying to keep Ven at bay.

"Don't—" he started to say, then froze as his gaze focused on Ventus. "It's _you_." He sounded shocked more than anything else—and perhaps a little disappointed.

Ven stared back, incredulous. "You're really back."

"How?"

Even if Ven wasn't sure, he remembered what Sora had told him about Vanitas's return before the Keyblade War. "That Unversed—I guess it held so much negative emotion inside of itself after all this time that it was able to bring you back on its own."

"And you woke it up?" Vanitas's eye narrowed with suspicion.

"I had this dream, I—" Ven frowned. "I think it was one of your memories." Ven looked around. "I think I've seen a lot of your memories of this place, Vanitas."

Vanitas scoffed, and sat up. "So, one of my creations tried to kill you again," he said, pointedly ignoring what Ven had just said. "Why are you looking at me like that, then?"

"Vanitas—you're _back_."

"So I am."

"Then that means—"

"What? That we'll be _friends_?" He stood up, turning his back to Ventus. "Tough chance. Last I remember, you and I had a pretty big disagreement before we parted ways."

Undeterred, Ven stood as well, walking after Vanitas. "I know," he said. "But that was before I realized why you said it all."

Vanitas paused in his tracks, and turned to Ventus. "Ventus," he said, saying his name as though it was an insult, "you think you know me so well now? You think you understand my motives because you've seen a tiny glimpse of my past, so you can show me the true path towards the Light?"

"No," Ven simply said, and the word made Vanitas flinch. "I do think I understand you better now, that's true. I understand how Master Xehanort treated you, brainwashed you into thinking the χ-blade was the only way you'd ever be whole. He made you stay in _this place_"—Ven held out his arms to his sides, encompassing the desert around them—"all alone, with no company but Unversed and nothing to do but fight them." He sighed. "You were never allowed to choose your own path, and all you ever learned to do was fight the very embodiment of your own emotions. And then you worked to make his plan happen, and you were defeated. And when you came back, again, he only used you as a tool. I understand now, why you _chose_ to be darkness—because it was the first time you got to truly make a choice of your own."

Vanitas tilted his head to the side, the one eye that showed through his mask rolling in its orbit. "Are you done?"

Ven shook his head, determined to say his piece. "I've talked to Riku about it, since the war. We shouldn't have given you that ultimatum, Sora and I. Ask you to join us, or be darkness. There was another way." He held out his hand. "There's darkness in every heart. That doesn't mean you should reject it—reject what you are—just to have friends."

Glancing at Ven's hand, Vanitas said, "How is that any different from choosing the light?"

"There's also light in every heart. And yeah, maybe making friends would help you accept yours. But the difference is, I'm making this offer, even if you choose to keep walking the path of darkness. No strings attached."

"And when I go back to making Unversed and spreading chaos through the worlds?"

In the face of Vanitas's sarcasm, Ven forced himself to smile. "_If_ you do that, we'll deal with it then." He shook his head. "I'm not offering you a free pass to hurt people."

Vanitas looked at his hand again, and this time, he held his gaze for a moment, silently pondering. Then he took it, lightly placing his hand over Ven's and holding it there, as if he didn't know how this was done. At the same time, his broken helmet retreated in a gold shimmer, unveiling his face. "If this is a trick, Ventus, I _will_ kill you."

"I know," Ven simply said.

Looking up at him again, Vanitas asked, "Why?"

"It's like you said. I understand you better now. And I missed you. I shouldn't have pushed you away like I did during the Keyblade War. And—" He looked away, unable to hold Vanitas's intense gaze and his hand at the same time, not while saying this. "When I had those dreams of your memories, I always felt this _yearning_. I thought it was calling me here, but—I don't think I was yearning for a place. That feeling was for _you_."

"Yearning for me, huh?" A tentative smirk appeared on Vanitas's face. "Who would have thought?"

"I know," Ven said, managing a smile of his own. "Don't tell the others."

"I will make no such promise. Not unless you give me a good reason to keep it a secret."

Ven stared at Vanitas, at the defiant gaze he was holding on him. Feeling the twinge of his fingers, as though he wanted to pull Ven towards him. Noticing the inviting twitch of his smile.

The message was clear. Or at least, Ven hoped it was, or he would regret this next action.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward.

And kissed him.


End file.
